


where the sun would set

by three



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Hiking, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Romantic Comedy, Sharing a Bed, Travel, i hope u like the woods cause its about to get very tree in here, keith is a repressed boy, maybe theres going to be tent sharing, there is tent sharing, uhjikb i just have a lot of feelings about Keith being alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/three/pseuds/three
Summary: Keith is on his own now. Shiro left him nothing but a photo album of a place he's never been and a hollowness he can't place. So he goes there, to the trail he's heard so much about and maybe he finds more than a bunch of trees and rocks.this was originally called "and i would walk 500 miles" but i dont hate myself that much





	1. white blaze

**Author's Note:**

> hi! haven't written fic in a long time. here's some hiker lingo that is used/referenced in the text (from my personal lexicon)
> 
> Trailhead: beginning of main trail  
> Blue Blaze: a marker off the main trail that will show either a side-route, sight-seeing opportunity or shelter  
> White Blaze: a marker for the main path  
> Trail Name: given by other hikers. usually describes a trait.  
> Log Book: usually kept at shelters. hikers write entries/greetings.
> 
> thank you so much to my lovely beta [istarsinthenight!](http://istarsinthenight.tumblr.com/)  
> also a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/12167847796/playlist/3TvqOfB252yKNCtLVuP62z) that could be nice to listen to !

Keith stared down the trail, past the tree line. His eyes were fixed on the blueish ridge on the horizon, faded by the distance between them. What was only a week’s journey suddenly seemed impossibly far.

 

It all looked painfully familiar to him, despite having never set foot here. The early-summer branches were crowded with leaves. They dipped in the breeze, laden with the fresh spring green. The path blinked brightly at him, sunlight catching on the dust and stone.

 

“There’s nothing like it,” Shiro said, thumb brushing thoughtfully over the album’s pages. “Next time, we’ll go together.”. Keith didn’t understand it. There was nothing in these photos that drew him. Shiro described it as a voice, a call. Keith had concluded that he could get the same feeling from a subscription to National Geographic.

“You don’t _have_ a subscription to Nat Geo.” Shiro pointed out.

“Yeah but you do. And if I wanted to, I’m sure you wouldn’t notice a few missing issues.”

Shiro furrowed his brow. “Yes, I would! They’re organized by month. I would.” 

“I know you would. I just like seeing you freak out.” He smirked.

“You don’t get it.” Shiro exhaled, a fine wrinkle between his eyes showing irritation.

“If I wanted to see trees and dirt I could just look out the window.” He crossed the room to the fingerprint-smeared pane, sending a pointed look to his friend. “Look. There’s one now. A rare specimen I’d say.”  
Shiro came up behind him quietly, and Keith could hear him thinking. “You’re not going to change my mind, you know.”

Shiro put a large hand on his shoulder and steered him back to the photo album. Keith scuffed his sneaker on the worn carpet, eyes drifting over the monotonous collection of green pictures.

 

“Can’t we just go to the gym or something?” Keith grunted, eyeing Shiro’s dirty boots and blistered toes. “I can walk just as far on a treadmill.” He could still recall Shiro’s look of dismay.

“You’re not serious, Keith.”

“Aren’t I?”

“You’ll come around. Once you get on the trail, you’ll get it.” There was a wistful look in his eyes. He was far away from Keith’s little attic room. And maybe, if it meant that much to him, it wouldn’t be so bad.

 

So here he was. His pack pushing down on his hips, poles in hand. He’d made it to the trailhead. Alone.

 

The drive up felt much longer than the two hours it had taken. With each turn-off the road felt rougher, jostling him against the seat. His mind was numb, no trace of the nerves he felt now. Keith adjusted the weight of his pack, taking a deep breath of forest air. Now or never.

 

Keith took a step forward when ー a flash of blue streaked by. 

  
“Lance, what the fuck!” A voice called from behind him, strained and tense. “You’ll be dead by noon with that kind of pace, Blue! Dehydration spares nobody.” Keith traced the voice to a small, angry hiker dressed in green. Behind trailed a bear-like man, equally pissed.

 

“These legs aren’t just for lookin’ at, Pidge. I’ve got horsepower.” The blue streak had stopped a few meters onto the trail. He was tall, with a pack Keith figured was impossible. It was tiny compared to his own, barely covering his back. This guy ー Blue? Lance? ー couldn’t be serious. He squinted at boy’s fawn coloured face, sunlight washing out any features he might pick out

“Right.” The green one, Pidge, replied as she passed Keith. In her hand was some gadget whose green display was blinking passively.

“Which isn’t to say you can’t look at them. I certainly don’t mind.” Keith’s stare was suddenly returned and ー wait, was he winking? Keith didn’t have time to figure it out, almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the lanky hiker was dashing down the path.

“God, I hope he doesn’t trip.” Mumbled the third hiker companion, worry painted on his broad face.

 

Keith stared after them red faced. Was that wink meant for him? Were they taking the same route as him? He felt uneasy, reluctant. The way he always felt when Shiro would press him to join him on a hike. He’d wave the boots he’d bought him in front of his face and Keith’s stomach would flip-flop. He watched as they walked, not bothering to alter their pace to accommodate their friend’s antics. They looked so at ease, obviously experienced, obviously friends. It felt like they were taunting him, showing him what he couldn’t have. What he could have had. He shook his head. Once the duo had wound around the first bend, Keith felt ready to start. No eyes on him, nobody to look back at him. He cast a glance for any other blue-clad disturbances before setting his first foot on the trail.

  
No heavenly choirs played, no bluebirds came to sing on his shoulder. It was altogether underwhelming, and Keith wondered just for a moment if it was all worth it. But he looked down at the dirt caked boots, just slightly too big on his feet, and banished the thought. Onwards.

 

The natural hum of the trail lent itself well to reflection. His mind turned back to the trio. He and Shiro had never had that kind of relationship. Not so loud and abrasive. Theirs was all quiet moments and well-worn jokes. Tried and true. It worked for them. Keith needed calm and Shiro was nothing if not calm. He could keep his temper around Shiro. When it was just them, crowded around the patch of light from his window, it was easier. Most of his memories are of cards. They played everything and anything, poker, spit, go-fish. By their third summer as friends, the cards were badly bent. Shiro took to any game with ease and Keith held his hand so tightly his fingers hurt by the end of it. Poker was their favorite. Keith had the memory and strategy for it and Shiro’s face, ever impassable, lent well to bluffing. He didn’t have to think to play, the rules, the tricks, they all felt mindless. They could pass hours in silence and nothing in him itched to lash out. So maybe it wasn’t much different than being alone, but it didn’t feel that way. He hadn’t been lonely, he assured himself.

 

By now, the late summer heat was brutal. He’d started later than he’d wished, with the sun breathing hot on his neck. He let his eyes fall to the path, glaring at each rock out of place, each root underfoot. Where was the peace Shiro had described? Where was the call of the mountain? All he felt was sweat on his neck and the chafe of his pack. Despite the layers of clothing, his skin felt rubbed raw where the metal supports touched him.

The further he trekked, the taller the trees grew. Soon they blocked the sun, casting a welcome shadow over the path. Little bursts of sunlight still escaped through the branches, bright and furtive. They blinded him if he looked up too long, and by late afternoon he was glad to find the blue blaze he’d seen on his map. A shelter.

 

Rocks were pushed to the side of the clearing and in their place lay a grassy sanctuary. To the left, a stout cabin with a shaded porch. Keith rushed to the picnic table there, heaving off his pack and flopping down perhaps a little too hard on the wood. It was cool against his sweat-soaked back. On the table lay a rough looking book, pages bursting from the binding. He reached for it with a dirt-covered glove, flipping it open. Each page was covered in what looked like log entries. Little messages signed off in different colour pens, a patchwork of handwriting.

 

            “ _First hike of the summer! Catch me on route 54!_

_-Charlie Brown”_

_“Made it this far in 2 hours. New record boys :)_

_-Shovel”_

_“YOU ALREADY KNOW WHO IT IS!!_

_-Lil’ Dip”_

 

Keith turned the pages, skimming over the messages. They all signed off with an alias. Some names reappeared, others didn’t. One page was covered in one entry, written in dynamic, scratchy letters. Upon reading, Keith found a tale of intrigue, mystery, and bear droppings. Fascinating stuff. He smiled despite himself as he came to the end.

 

_“We never found her. BUT ONE DAY!!! One day, we’ll meet. ~~Mano a mano. Mano a Bearo.~~  ONE ON ONE!_

_-Blue. (Pidge & Hunk were also there I guess.)”_

 

Ah. The hikers he’d met on his way in. It certainly fits. The entry was dated last month, so it couldn’t have happened that day. Out of curiosity, Keith flipped to the last entry.

 

_“OI!!! You in the little red number. Try and keep up!_

_-Blue”_

 

The message was surrounded by winking faces and thumbs-up. Keith flushed, looking quickly at the entry that followed.

 

_“Sorry.”_

_-Pidge & Hunk”_

 

Keith’s fingers brushed over the pen that lay beside. Was he supposed to write back? He frowned at the book, picking up the pen and tapping against the paper. What to say? But more than that, what to sign? “Keith” was obviously wrong. Blue, Pidge, Hunk, Shovel, all of these were distinctly not-names. Had Shiro mentioned these, he wondered? Somewhere in his ramblings, had he explained this? He felt suddenly lost. Keith looked away, turning from the page to face the dark opening of the cabin. It stared back, offering him no answers, only a cement floor and cobwebbed corners. Little cracks of light filtered through the stacked log wall. They petered out into the consuming darkness of the shelter. Little dust motes fluttering down, lost in the black.

            It hurt to think of those moments, like a bruise. A dull ache each time he recalled Shiro’s voice, the curve of his back hunched over a photo album. Little pieces of his friend he couldn’t reach. Still, he pressed on, sifting through the memories to one that called to him. A patch on Shiro’s pack, sewn in with stiff thread and a thick needle.

           

“What are you doing?” He’d asked with feigned disinterest. Shiro’s hand moved lightning quick with some hidden skill.

            “Sewing.”

            “Sewing what?”

            “My name.” Keith peered at the patch. _Paladin._

            “That’s notー”

            “My trail name, Keith,” Shiro said it with a gentle smile.

            “Oh.” He replied, pretending he understood.

 

Keith looked down at the paper to see that he’d pushed the nib of the pen through the page, a little hole pressed beneath the last message. For a moment he thought about signing as _Paladin_ in some sort of homage to his friend. But in his head, it just looked wrong. Some sort of imitation. Nothing fit. He dropped the pen on the table, pages closing with a harsh slap.

He left the shelter in a hurry, glad to leave the book behind. He didn’t look over his shoulder; the trailhead was long gone. The trees behind him looked identical to the ones ahead, the path stayed rocky and uneven, the air still fresh on his cheeks. The only thing that changed was the sky. As the path stretched on, with each step even, the sky’s ice blue melted to a rich honey gold. The soft amber light cast long shadows across the path. They gathered around him, the evening chill nipping at his heels and urging him onwards.

His pace grew impatient, hoping that over each crest of the hill he might see the next shelter, might find the gable peeking over the top. Only when the night had drawn close, did he find it. The stars peered at him from behind the cloud cover, winking with each of his strides. And maybe he did feel some sort of satisfaction when he reached it. Maybe it was just the feeling of dropping his pack in the dirt, the weight so suddenly gone he felt as if he might fly. Like holding a fist till your knuckles were numb. He rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

           “You better set up quick. Pitching a tent in the dark is harder than you think.” He jolted from his thoughts. The hikers from earlier sat around the porch, packs flung haphazardly, and jackets open to the breeze. Lance shot him a wily look and Keith furrowed his brow.

           “I have a hammock. And a headlight.” He snapped.

           “Of course, of course. You do you, kid.” Keith bristled, but slung his pack over his shoulder and set out to find two good trees.

           “Oh, I wouldn’t go that way, try around back,” Lance called, and Keith could hear the smile. He turned around. “No, the other way.” Keith turned again. “No, the other, _other_ way.” He froze, turning on his heel to fix Lance with a dirty look. “I’m just pulling your leg, anywhere is good.” Keith bit back a barrage of curses.

After a few calming breaths, he managed to spot a few trees near the shelter, but not before overhearing what was apparently a covert exchange.

           “You know what they say, Pidge, I hate to see him leave, but I love to watch him go.” There was a muffled thump. “Ow. What the hell?” Some stern whispers. “I wasn’t ー It’s not objectifying if ー” Another scuffle. “Fine!”

Keith smiled wickedly at the scolding and went about setting up camp for the night.

 

The hammock described on the box as “easy to use” was absolutely not “easy” to anything. After twenty minutes of wrestling with rope and tarp, Keith dropped his handful of tarp and groaned. He should have practised. The sky was close to pitch black and he hadn’t tied one knot. Was sleeping on the ground an option? He glanced down. Where the last shelter had grass, this one had pebbles. Tiny enough to walk on, large enough to keep him up all night. He curled his hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palms. Who jumped into a week-long hike without training? With a sharp exhale, he let his hands fall to his sides, shaky and red.

            He could do this.

 

And he did. Another twenty minutes bore him a hammock and tarp. The knots were a tangled mess of rope, but they didn’t fall when he tugged them, and nobody was going to see it anyway. Nobody who mattered. It wasn’t a big deal. He set his pack under the tarp and dug around for that night’s meal.

A front-row seat to the bonfire, a stomach full of food, a dull ache in his calves. All these gave some strange comfort to Keith. He had barely noticed when the others thundered in from the shelter, laughter booming and eyes wild. Lance’s teeth glinted in the firelight as sat down next to Keith.

            “Looks like you managed to set that thing up.” Keith warmed his hands at the fire, staring at them instead of Lance.

            “Yeah.” Heat flushed Keith’s face. “Simple, really.” He withdrew his hands, feeling sufficiently hot.  
            “Of course.” Keith could taste his sarcasm.

            Keith’s eyes darted to the little slivers of fire licking the ink black sky. Sparks tickled the dark, catching in their eyes. Across the fire, the murmurs of other hikers passed over him like a hum, soft. The came and went from the fire, drawn in like moths. He let his eyes drift over the slender figures of the trees ー pine, birch, oak ー the rocks around the firepit, the long line of Lance’s back. He was slouched close to the fire, long fingers outstretched as if to catch the warmth. Something about him here seemed slower, less urgent.

His features were lit warmly by the campfire. It gave gentleness to his sharp eyes. Keith watched him speak with that easy confidence, his words bubbling up like honey. He startled when two dark blue eyes met his own.

            “What do you think, Red?”

            “Red?” Keith tore his eyes from Lance’s. His cheeks warmed.

            “Red. The windbreaker, the attitude?” Lance’s smile was sly. “Your face.”

            Keith managed to splutter some sort of protest. “You can’t just ー! That’s not ー”

            “I can. And I did.”

            Keith looked to Pidge and Hunk for support, but they looked back with only amusement. “He can’t, can he?” He whined.

            “A trail name is a trail name, _Red_ ,” Pidge smirked.

            “Could be worse.” Hunk hummed. “Could be Sausage.” He and Pidge shared a look before bursting into a fit of laughter.

            “Sausage? Sausa ー Never mind! I refuse.” His voice was strained. The laughter stopped, and Keith felt all eyes on him. He narrowed his eyes at Lance. “You don’t even know me. You don’t get to ー”

            “Listen, kid ー”

            “Don’t call me kid, I’m pretty sure I’m older than you!”  
            “Okay, geez, just calm ー”

            “What kind of name is Red anyways?” He huffed. Calm down? Who did he think he was? Calm down. Like he could just do it on command.

            “Could be Sau ー” Hunk started but Lance cut him off.

            “Just sleep on it.” He implored with that lilt in his voice. His eyes sparkled, and Keith had to look away for his own good. He frowned.

            “Fine. Good-night.” Keith snatched his dishes from the ground and stumbled away from the fire. He stomped through the undergrowth to his hammock and kicked his boots off. The campfire had sucked the rest of his energy, and his eyelids felt heavier than bricks. Still warm, he clambered inside his sleeping bag and slept.


	2. Catch Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet cute part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thank you so much for reading and I'm sorry this update took so long. i have more coming since i have so much time off this summer! also for those of you who have read the first chapter already, i actually updated/edited it as well!

Cold grey light filtered through the crack in Keith’s tarp. It bit at him till he woke, unwinding himself from the sleeping bag. He stretched his legs down, his toes brushing dewy grass. He slipped down from the hammock and with bleary eyes and began the long process of packing up. A granola bar breakfast and a splash of creek water later, he felt somewhat more human. Only then did Keith notice the silence of the clearing. No cackling or shouting, just the breeze on his neck and the quiet titterings of birdsong. They’d left, then.

 He ran a hand over his pack, fingertips passing over the bumps and ridges of a zipper. These shelters were temporary lodging, just one stop of many, but Keith found it hard to imagine leaving. Without the chatter, he could see himself staying here. The forest observed him in quiet stillness, and Keith felt calm under its gaze.

He hauled his pack over his shoulder and padded over the soft grass to the log book. It lay open, turned to the last page. The paper was covered in a familiar script, scratched out in a hurry.

“Hey princess!! If you wanna catch up, you better cut down on that beauty sleep. Besides, real beauty comes from within. (I would know ;) )

            -xo Blue”

 

“If it makes you feel better, Blue once slept through an earthquake. (Magnitude 6 on the Richter scale, if you were curious.)

            -Pidge”

“CHEF HUNK IS MAKIN’ CHILI, TELL ALL YOUR FOREST FRIENDS.

            -Hunk”

 

Keith smiled, just a little. They mustn’t have left too long ago, it was only 8:30. He could catch up if he tried. But that wasn’t why he’d come out here. This was about him and this hike. He plucked up the pen, twirling it for a second before putting it to paper.

 

            “Hey, remind me who won. The tortoise or the hare?

                        -Red”

 

He signed with the name they’d given to him. It was their invention, but it belonged to him. He could make of it what he wanted. If he’d been left to create one on his own, he knew he wouldn’t have signed a log-book for the whole trip. And besides, the name itself wasn’t the problem, it was just Lance.

The sky above him was a cool, slate-grey. It cast a shadow over the woods, threatening rain. Keith didn’t mind. He shouldered his pack quickly, turning his face towards the trail. The path was wilder up ahead, the forest asserting itself with quiet will. It clawed at the man-made path, the brush and bush trickling across the dirt. Leave no trace, he reminded himself, noting the footprints and how they skirted carefully around each branch. He smiled to imagine Lance, normally reckless and fast, tip-toeing around the leaves.

Far into the path as he was, Keith couldn’t help but look up. He knew the forest was what he was meant to watch; the animals, the trees, the great rock faces. Even so, his eyes were drawn to the fragments of dim light. He missed the wide openness of the world he knew. He longed for a wind strong enough to barrel him over, not the come and go breeze here. The air seemed to catch on the branches. The day was dark, but not cold. A wetness clung to the air and to him, making each movement sticky. It reminded him of a day he’d not thought of in a long time.

They both sat on the bed, though it barely fit Shiro alone. He seemed too big for everything here. His person, everything about him, dwarfed the room. Keith had laughed when Shiro had shown him the room. It was ridiculous to him that he was placed in the children’s ward, but legally that’s where he belonged. Shiro had laughed too, the tiredness gone from his face.          

            “Did you bring cards?” He asked, and Keith nodded, pulling the old deck from his pocket. “Great. Nobody here wants to play with me.” It didn’t surprise him. The residents here would much rather a game of tag to a round of heads up.

            “You wanna shuffle?” Keith asked, voice quiet. It was out of politeness that he asked. Shiro had always shuffled.

            “Nah.” Shiro’s voice didn’t shake. The tremor in his right hand was more noticeable today, as much as Shiro tried to hide it. It lay against his leg, white with strain. Keith wished he wouldn’t try so hard.

He took the deck into his hand, the cards yellowed at the edges with sweat and grime from so many days of use. Summer was for poker, staying up till dawn, and waiting for Shiro to come back from his trips. There hadn’t been much of that this summer, the waiting.

The cards shuffled easily, pliable in his grip. Shiro didn’t watch, his eyes fixated on the window by the bed. It was closed. On his first visit, Keith had thought they’d kept it shut for the heat. The AC in the hospital barely kept the room cool as it was. But after so many visits he’d noticed no change, even on the coolest days. It didn’t sit right with Keith. Shiro loved fresh air. He never let his window close when they spent those nights up in his attic. A constant rattle was all the small fan on the counter provided. A puff of inconsistent air blew Shiro’s sweat-slicked hair off his forehead for a moment.

Today, the sky was grey. What light did filter through the pale cloud-cover was cold and dim. Keith set the cards down beside him and came up to the glass, feeling around for the latch. The air inside felt too stale.

            “Keith, what are you doing?” Shiro’s voice was quiet.

            “Opening the window, dumbass. You need air.” Keith found the latch, fingers pulling at it roughly. “How do you work this thing?”

            “Keith.” Shiro was beside him now, fingers closing over his own. “You can’t.” Keith turned to him, bewildered.

            “What do you mean? You always have the window open, you –”

            “I’m sick, Keith.”

            “Yeah, I know. You’re in the hospital.” Keith’s words came out too sharp. Shiro flinched.

            “I’m not allowed.”

            “Not allowed? To what, enjoy yourself? Isn’t fresh air good for you?”

            “I can’t, Keith.” He paused as if trying to find his words. “You remember that time, you called me, you wanted to visit? July? I said no. You remember that, right?”

            “Yeah.” He’d stayed home from school, a sore throat. What better place to be when you’re sick than at a hospital, he’d joked. Shiro couldn’t have him though, he had an appointment with his specialist.

            “You were sick.” Shiro pushed forward. “I couldn’t see you, because you were sick.”

            Keith’s brow furrowed. “Oh.”

            “It’s getting worse now. They said the air out there isn’t good for me now.”

            “Jesus Christ.” His breath was ragged, the air too warm in here. “But what about you, what do you want?”  
            Shiro gave him a tight smile. “It’s not about what I want.” Keith noticed the way he leaned on the pane, how his legs trembled too.  
            Keith’s fingers tightened on the latch. “It’s your fucking life, Shiro. Of course, it is.” He turned the metal mechanism, releasing the window. It smacked back against the wall with the force, too loud. Keith winced as the cold air hit him. It held no relief. Shiro took several quick steps backwards. He knocked unsteadily into his bed and met Keith’s eyes. He was afraid.

            “I’m sorry,” Keith whispered, frozen.

 

Keith barely remembered the rest of the hike, recalling only long, grey miles of forest. The path kept up the steady incline, but Keith barely registered the ache in his knees when he finally stopped. The shelter in front of him stood 14 feet tall, and from what he could see, held two stories. More a cabin than shelter, he was surprised to find it mostly empty. No sleeping bags inside, despite the ample room and smooth floor. It wasn’t as if the site wasn’t populated; there were several tents outside, and a quiet hum of activity around the fire pit. Keith sighed and set his things down against a worn log wall.

            “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

            “I’m not falling for that again.” Keith huffed back, glancing over his shoulder at Lance. He leaned against the doorframe, pants cuffed up around his ankles and sporting a pair of bright shark-print flip-flops.

            “Dude, I’m not joking, there’s a -”

            “Don’t.” Keith ground out. No more distractions.

            “There’s a racoon, asshole. A family of them.” Lance’s voice was prickly. “I’m trying to help you out.”  
            “Well,” Keith dropped his eyes back to the cabin floor. “Sorry, thanks. Whatever.” He waited until he heard the other boy leave before hiking his bag over his shoulder again.

 

Keith didn’t have the energy to set up his hammock. The fatigue from the day’s journey was finally hitting him, so he dumped his stuff near the porch. There was a while until dinner, and most of the others had gathered around the fire. Laughter rippled from that direction, and Keith headed in the opposite. Perched on a rock near the edge of the brush was the smaller, green hiker. She was bent over a curious looking device and looked up as he approached.  
            “Red, hi.” The green display reflected brightly in her glasses.

            “Hey.” He began, unsure of himself. “Uh, what have you got there?”  
            She smiled holding it out to him carefully. “Here, come sit.” He took it, sitting tentatively beside her. “There’s a lot going on, but these are the basics.” She ran her fingers over a series of keys on the side. “Altitude, weather, coordinates, maps. You get the picture.”

            Keith watched intently. He’d never seen a GPS like this before. “Coordinates?”

            “Yeah. Lance likes to hike ahead, so Hunk and I keep an eye on him. We used to lose him for days, and find him 8 miles off the trail, swimming in some random river.” She pulled up a map with a tiny blinker. “It saves us time and worry.”

            “Oh.” Keith looked up from the display, peering at Lance. It didn’t really surprise him, but the thought of going off trail for that long was vaguely worrying. The sense of comfort those white blazes gave him was almost ridiculous.

            “Yeah. Lance hates it, always ranting about ‘no tech on hikes’ but I think secretly he’s a little okay with it. He doesn’t want us to freak out.”

            “Right.” Keith had a hard time keeping the sarcasm from his voice.  
            “I know, it’s hard to imagine Lance looking out for other people, but you’d be surprised.” Pidge’s gaze was sharp. “He’s a good friend.” It wasn’t meant to convince him, it was a fact. Keith looked away, embarrassed. He almost wanted to apologize.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, before Pidge reached to take back the device. Keith handed it back, a tight smile on his face. “Thanks.”

 

Pidge returned to her fiddling, and though Keith still felt welcome, he imagined that was all she could manage to explain to someone as clueless as himself. He pushed himself up and waved lamely as he moved towards the campfire. Lance was nowhere to be seen but he noticed Hunk there. He stirred a pot, smiling warmly at the other hikers. They returned his smile keenly, under some sort of spell. As Keith neared, he realized it was no spell. A thick, complex combination of flavours wafted from the fire.

            “Red! Dude come sit.” Hunk slid over, making room on the log bench for Keith. He felt slightly dwarfed by the other hiker, having to look up to see the open-faced man. “You read my message, I guess.” He smiled.

            “Chili.” Keith recalled and peered into the pot. A medley of red, brown and yellow sludge bubbled within, the source of the spicy smell.

            “You bet, buddy.” A loud growl sounded from Keith’s stomach and he put a hand to it self-conciously. “I made enough for everyone, don’t worry.”  
            “No, no it’s okay. I brought my own food.”  
            “Don’t look at me in the eye and call dehydrated tuna food.” Hunk dead-panned. Keith shrivelled a little under his gaze. Just the smell of the chili made his food supply feel like actual trail-dirt.

            “It’s not that bad.” He managed.

            “God, it’s affected your brain already. This man needs some chilli.” Brown fingers patted his shoulder, and Lance swung around to squeeze onto the end of the log.

            “Absolutely.” Hunk agreed, and Keith didn’t have the heart or stomach to say no.

            He brought his wooden spoon to his mouth and made plans to throw his tuna to the racoons that night. God, what had he been thinking? He looked at Hunk, his face now shadowed by the night. “But how do you get all this stuff in your pack?

            “Well, when you hike with a group,” he looked fondly to Lance and Pidge, who were devouring their own bowls. “You can delegate. So, I carry the food – dehydrated that is – and Pidge takes the gadgets and Lance takes the tent.” Keith thought of Lance’s ultra-light pack and it made sense.

            “We all carry our own TP though!” Lance chimed in. “Can you imagine? 5 miles ahead and you have to wait for your friend to wipe your ass.” The fire exploded into laughter. Lance grinned.

            Keith groaned, and Hunk patted his shoulder. “I promise, you’ll learn to love his jokes.”

            “Will I?” He seriously doubted it.

            “I sincerely hope so. Otherwise, this is going to be a long trip.”

            “It’s alright, you guys will out-pace me in a day or two I think.” Keith didn’t kid himself. He couldn’t keep up with the pros, and he didn’t want to strain himself.

            “Ah, I’m not so sure.” Hunk’s eyes narrowed in amusement.

            “Are you kidding? You guys make way better time than me.”  
            “Well, it’s just that, ah.” Hunk smiled nervously. “Have you heard of pink-blazing?”

            “No?” Keith knew white and blue blazes, but not pink.

            “Never mind then.”

Keith turned away, only to find Lance staring meaningfully at Hunk. His eyebrows were lowered in what was probably supposed to be a threatening expression.

            “Am I missing something here?” Keith asked, nerves sparking in his stomach. He didn’t like being the butt of a joke.

            “No, no you’re alright.” Hunk assured him around a bite of chilli.

            “More than alright, eh, Blue?” Pidge mused before dropping her bowl to the dirt. “Ow! You asshole!”  
            “You dare spill the ambrosia of the trail?” Lance gasped.

            “You fucking kicked me! Of course, I did.” Pidge cried with no real heat in her voice. She picked her bowl up, blowing her spoon off before shovelling another spoonful.

            “Slander and lies!” A wolfish grin spread across his face and Lance looked to the other hikers for assurance. A few muttered half-hearted agreements, and Keith saw that they were all used to his antics. “I’m a pacifist, Red, I assure you.” Lance fluttered his eyelashes up at Keith.

            “Mmm…” Keith hummed as he chewed, staring shamelessly. A slight flush spread across Lance’s face as he did and he looked away.

            “Who’s Red now?” A smile curled at Keith’s lips. Lance waved a hand and took a bite of his chilli. “Maybe you’re more of a Purple than a Blue.” Keith hummed, and Lance seemed to choke on his food.

            Pidge and Hunk shared a look and snickered. “Told you, Lance. Purple.” Pidge grinned.

            Keith had missed the joke again and his stomach sank a little. Lance recovered eventually and sent his friends the worst stink-eye Keith had seen in years. Keith stood, bowl in hand. “Right, well, I’d better – “

 

A clap of thunder interrupted him, and the clouds that had threatened all day released a sheet of rain so sudden in made Keith miss a step. It poured down, soaking him instantly, and he thought of his pack sitting against the side of the cabin. His sleeping bag, hammock and supplies would all be soaked, if not already then by the time he reached them. He threw his head back and let out a resounding “FUCK!”

His closed his eyes, water sliding over his eyelids and down his face. Those racoons had better be ready to share.

 

            “You left your shit out, didn’t you?”

Keith opened one eye and glared at Lance. “Yes, and I don’t need you to tell me how dumb I was.”  
            “I’m not.” His hand was on his forearm, tugging. “Would you look at me?” Keith did as he was told and blinked rapidly to keep the water from his eyes. “You can share mine.”

Lance’s windbreaker was drawn up around his face, the little duckbill of the hood jutting out at his forehead. Keith plucked a little at his jacket where it stuck to his body. A waterdrop wound its way down Lance’s cheek and under the folds of his jacket. “There’s room?”  
“Would you prefer rabies?” His eyebrows arched, but Keith had no patience for banter in this downpour. His hair was starting to get in his eyes and he raked at it with his fingers, trying to push it back.

            “Fine. Where?”  
            “Oh, thank you, Lance, for your kindness and of course I’d love to!” Lance mocked as he turned towards a blue-green one-person tent.

            “Sorry if my idea of a good sleep isn’t in close-quarters with _you,_ ” Keith grunted, but it was lost in the shower of rain.

Lance crouched under the fly he’d had the sense to put up and unzipped the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He kicked his flip-flops off at the entrance and slid inside, rustling around for a lantern. A bright light switched on and Keith ducked in after him.

 

His sleeping bag was almost identical to Keith’s own. A down caterpillar with pull strings around the hood. So far, Keith had found it altogether too hot to stay inside the thing and had opted to drape it over his hammock. He’d exchanged the comfortable temperature for an intense amount of bug-bites though, and as he shimmied out of his wet clothes, he was incredibly aware of his pocked shins.

            “They like you, don’t they?” Lance grinned, unzipping his coat and slithering out of his wet shorts.

            “Yeah, I must be some sort of city-boy delicacy or something.”  
            “I’d say.” Lance grinned and shoved a pair of dry boxers at him. Alligator-print.  
            “Thanks.” Keith wasn’t sure how to go about getting them on. There was barely a foot between them and he already felt indecent.

            “Oh, go on, I’ll close my eyes.” Keith nodded and tried to change as quickly as possible. The whole process was far more complicated with two pairs of lanky legs taking up most of the tent’s floor. He hit the round ceiling of the tent several times with his toes before he succeeded in getting them on.

            “You can open.”  
            “Oh, thank god. My hands smell like dirt.” Lance lifted his fingers from his eyes. “Just give them back when you can.” Keith was surprised that for all Lance’s teasing he didn’t prod him about this. Maybe he senses his uneasiness. Maybe he was nervous himself.

            “Sure,” Keith said, staring at the lantern. “Can I have a shirt maybe, too?”  
            “Yeah, of course, what was I thinking?” Lance snorted and rummaged around. “Take this.” It was just a blue shirt, no obnoxious pattern this time.

            Keith tugged it on. “Do you only own blue?”  
            “Yes,” Lance said seriously. “Why not?”  
            “I dunno. I guess it’s easy to identify you.” Keith shrugged. “It’s just, don’t you get bored?”  
            “Not really, no.” The silence stretched out as Lance fiddled with the lantern, and darkness settled over the tent.  
            “Are you going to bed?”  
            “Uh, yeah.” Keith put his head down beside Lance’s, glad for the soft grass. “You can have some of my sleeping bag.” The bag, unzipped now, was draped over his back. “I get up early so don’t stay up too long,” Lance warned softly, breath warm at Keith’s neck where he had propped himself up.

            “I won’t,” Keith assured him, glancing over his shoulder at the other boy. He could see next to nothing in the dark, just the faint lines of Lance’s face.

 

The night had not gone at all how he had expected. With the way Lance had treated him, he’d figured it would be an opportunity to get under his skin in a whole new way. But the other boy had been just as careful as he, and when he rolled onto his back, Lance let the sleeping bag fall off his shoulders. Keith wriggled his toes selfishly in the warmth for several minutes before slid closer again, laying it over both of them. “Thanks.” Lance’s voice was quiet with sleep and Keith thought he must be on the edge of a dream, so he didn’t reply. Let him think he had done it in his sleep. He could wave it off later if he did and maintain the distance he’d put between them. Kindness was for friends, and Keith didn’t need any more of those. He’d had his fill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is sad :(


	3. Soggy

 

He woke early the next morning. The sun brought no light through the clear plastic of the tent’s skylight. Either hidden behind the thick black clouds or not yet risen. Lance was still dozing, one hand holding the sleeping bag and the other down his pants. Lovely.

 

Keith smiled and pulled on his soggy shorts and shoes.

 

He didn’t mind the squelch so much as he walked to his pack. He stopped though as he reached it, surprised to find someone had pulled a sort of plastic cover onto it. He didn’t recognize it as his own, and as he peeled it off he found his pack dry as bone. The label on it read “PIDGE” in huge green sharpie, and Keith smiled a little. He folded it and lay it on the seat of one of the picnic tables.

He shouldered the heavy weight and paused as he reached the scrappy logbook.

 

"Guess I’m not the only one who has to cut down on beauty sleep.

                        -Red"

 

He lay the pen on the table and toddled off through the wet grass, glad for the dry pack and shirt.

 

A mist of not-quite rain wet his cheeks and hair, cooling him as he walked. The sheer weight of his pack and uneven terrain was enough to make him sweat, and he was glad for a break from the summer sun.

 

Keith recalled an unbearably hot day last summer when Shiro had finally been allowed home. Humidity steamed his windows and the air in the attic was thick with heat. He and Shiro were sprawled on the wood floor, arms outstretched as his fan swivelled between them. Each time the cold air moved away, Shiro would let out a groan.

             “You’re so dramatic,” Keith grunted and rolled uncomfortably to his knees. A gleam of sweat shone on Shiro’s brow as he looked him over.   
             Shiro closed his eyes and made a face. “I want to die.”  
             Keith reached for the fan, pulling the latch and stopping the rotation. It blew directly onto Shiro’s face and the grimace disappeared. “You heavenly creature.” He hummed.

             Keith snorted and lay back down, this time on his side to face his friend. “Anything for you.”  
             A bead of sweat rolled down Shiro’s temple and Keith’s mouth felt dry. “Anything?” Shiro asked, quietly.

             Keith leaned over to push Shiro’s hair from his forehead. “Mmhm.”

             Shiro put his hand over Keith’s. “Your hand is warm.” He complained, but didn’t push it off. Heat radiated off of his forehead, almost too hot to touch.

             Shiro opened his eyes and Keith watched as they drifted over his shoulders and chest.

             Keith slid his hand to Shiro’s jaw, thumb on his pulse. “Your heart’s going crazy.”

 

Shiro’s eyes stopped, and lifted back to Keith’s own. But instead of the drowsy, heat-soaked look of earlier, they were nervous and wide. Keith licked his dry lips, and returned his stare.  
             “Keith.” His voice was strained but calm. “I can’t breath.” Keith’s mouth fell open a little, and he looked over Shiro’s flushed face.   
             “You…what?” The moment was broken and Keith removed his hand, letting it hover between them.

             “Get my phone, call my dad.” Keith was frozen. “Please.” The word was desperate and he got to his feet, reaching for Shiro’s pocket. “It’s on the nightstand.” Shiro’s voice trembled a little and Keith sprung to his feet, panic filling his stomach.

 

The sun had broken through the clouds now and it beat down on him, drying his shoes so they stuck stiffly to his feet. He felt too hot, too alien on the trail. His too-big boot caught easily on a root and he tumbled, the weight of his pack grinding his face into the dust. He pressed his palms against the path, rough and nicked and bleeding. His first attempt yielded only shaking arms and a mouthful of dirt again, but the second time he managed to get to his knees. Cicadas wailed in the heat, their long call crawling up his spine. His head ached and he pressed his nails into his kneecaps till hot, wet tears rolled down his cheeks. His throat felt thick, and his lips stuck together with the heat.

             “Oh, fuck, oh god.” He pushed out, breath hiccupping and words sticky with tears. He pushed his palms into his eyes till he saw white, dirt and sweat streaking his face.

 

He could hear the rasping breath, picturing the heaving of Shiro’s chest and panic in his eyes. It was too hot, and Keith felt breathless himself, holding his air as if to leave more of it for his friend. He let it all out in a nauseous exhale as Shiro’s dad burst in, briefcase clutched at his side.

             “911, Keith.” His words were harsh and quick. “Now!” Keith scrambled for the phone again, eyes glued to Shiro’s face as it turned a pale shade of pink then purple.

 

             The click of the receiver registered, and Keith could hear his voice, but he didn’t know what he was saying. “Give it to me.” The phone was pulled from his hands and he brought them to his neck instead, feeling the unevenness of his breath.

 

He did the same now, trying to push the sobs back down but only succeeding in strangling his breath. He let his hands fall to his sides, exhausted.

 

             “Let me, uh, help you up.” A soft voice roused Keith and he looked up. His vision was blurry with tears, but Lance’s sharp features were distinguishable. They were drawn up in worry, and his hand was outstretched. Keith took it for a moment, not caring that his own was covered in snot and dirt.

 

He jolted as he was pulled up, steadying himself against Lance with his other hand. The weight of his pack felt like nothing now, just a hand at his back, keeping him upright. “Do you need a moment?” Keith pushed his forehead against Lance’s shoulder and catching his breath. Lance squeezed his hand, and when he was ready, he took a step back. Gentle eyes passed over his dirty face and red eyes, and Lance reached for his water-bottle and untied the bandana from his neck. He wiped Keith’s face softly with the wet cloth and Keith bore it, tilting his chin so he could reach.

 

The handkerchief and bottle were returned to their places and Keith stared blankly at the ground.

             “Do you want to tell me what that was about?” Lance asked, the lilt back in his voice. Keith’s neck prickled with anxiety.

             “No.” Lance twisted his lips, irritation flickering in his eyes. Keith caught it and didn’t let go. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” He muttered. “Are you stalking me or something?”  
             Frustration broke Lance’s features. “We’re all hiking the same t-“

             “What? Is this your thing? You like me or something? Trying to catch me alone so you can-“  
             “It’s not _like_ that!” Lance protested, his face growing red and his words sharp.

             “Oh sure, not like you didn’t tell me my pack was safe and dry the whole time? You got your little friends to help you get-“

             “I was being considerate! I had no idea Pidge had-“  
             “Considerate!”   
             “God, no wonder you don’t get it. People treat you nicely and you just-“  
             “Just, stay away. I’m not...” He glared at Lance, his dark eyes boiling. “Leave me alone.”  
Lance’s hands were gripping the straps of his pack, knuckles white. “Fine.” He spat and started down the path at a break-neck pace. Keith stared down at Shiro’s boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont even worry about it hahhehahheh


	4. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> goofs n GAGS

 

Days came and went on the trail. Pidge and Hunk passed him silently one evening and Keith shrank away. They didn’t look at him.

 

Keith opted to tie his hammock on the side of the trail at night. He couldn’t bear the thought of staying in the same camp as the three of them. It wasn’t anger that kept him away though. He knew that feeling and it was hot and urgent. This one was cold and lingering, clinging to his toes when he woke and all through the day.

He missed the warmth of the firepits but felt no need to join them. His food was dried, and so he took it dry or cold with water. He found both to be horribly inadequate after tasting Hunk’s chilli, but there was not much to do besides chewing the slimy stuff.

 

At night, when the weather allowed, he slept without his tarp, eyes to the sky. Each morning he woke with dew on his skin and a chill in his bones. The tarp was horribly claustrophobic, and he much preferred the cold to the cocoon of both hammocks and fly.

 

The hiking itself became easier. The calluses came in the right places, and he found his rhythm of rising with dawn and resting as soon as evening hit.

He found the bruises on his hips had faded too, the pack no longer hitting him quite so hard. He revelled at the hardness of his body as he stripped down in the shallows of a river. The softness of his arms and legs were rigid and sinewy. So much of him had changed, and he peered at his reflection in the water. His hair hung into his eyes, and his features seemed more drawn out. Almost gaunt. He felt wild, inhumane. Not himself.

He scrubbed water over his face and body, and when he looked again, he felt a little better. Now he was clean at least.

When he returned to his pack he took his knife to his hair, struggling to cut through the thick strands. It came out uneven and shorter than he wished. The wave of his hair sprung to loose curls at this new length. It wasn’t the face he knew, but it looked right. It looked new.

 

Satisfied, Keith dried his head with his shirt, then donned the wet thing, letting the sun dry it as he walked. His washed socks and boxers flapped in the wind, tied to his pack with zip ties so they could do the same. The first time he’d done it he had felt embarrassed, especially as he hadn’t given back Lance’s pair. Alongside his plain black pairs, the alligators stuck out like a sore thumb. As soon as they’d dried he’s shoved them down the bottom of his bag, unsure what else to do with them.

Days later, out of clean underwear and in a particularly dry spot of the trail, he’d swallowed his pride and put them on. Now he thought nothing of it. They had made their way into his inventory, and Keith knew better than to waste pack space on something he wouldn’t use.

 

The sun that day was bright but not hot, the perfect kind of light. He’d finally gotten around to using the guidebooks Shiro had left him, and he held one in his hand as he trekked. Today’s route boasted a hollowed tree wide enough for two people to stand under. The Big One, it was called. He’d learned to accept the odd names given out here. Avery’s Asscrack had been his favourite; a narrow pass through a stretch of mountain that was particularly difficult.

 

As he crested the final hill on the map, he saw it stretch out ahead of him. Surrounded by similarly massive trees, it stood, larger and wider than any tree he’d seen so far. At its base, a small sign stood, and Lance was sure it held the same information as his book. A short paragraph about the age and species and date of discovery. Keith approached carefully, running his hand over the thick bark and stretching his arms around it, though it was far too large reach the other side. He took a deep breath of the earthy air and let go, wandering around to the hollow.

 

Whatever he had imagined, it had not been this. Piled inside were dozens of little trinkets and wildflowers. Some dandelions surely picked from the side of the path, and many he didn’t recognize. The trinkets were also trail-made; wood carvings and grass weavings. He’d seen many hikers crafting things as they walked. Trying to keep their hands as busy as their feet. And here were the fruits of their labour. Strewn in the sandy hollow of the oak, a little treasure trove.

 

But why? Keith couldn’t figure it out. No card or note had been written. Was it just tribute to the forest? He stepped out of the hollow and towards the sign, skimming over the details of the tree’s growth to a smaller section at the bottom.

 

In the summer of 2017, The Big One was renamed the Paladin, in memory of well-known thru-hiker Takashi “Paladin” Shirogane.

 

Keith stared at the tree again, open-mouthed and unbelieving. It was his tree. Standing tall like a sentinel, the branches sheltered the copse of trees and cast soft shadows over everything. Keith returned to the hollow, taking in the gifts anew. Shiro would be able to name all of the flowers, and Keith brought out another field-guide, flipping through the pages to match marigold, blue-bell, Queen Anne’s lace. He set the book down when he’d finished, and arranged the wooden figures, bears, into little rows. Like some tiny army, the mismatched creatures sat at attention. Keith couldn’t hold back his smile.

 

 

He stayed there for some time, kept company by the bears and the heady smell of wildflowers. Finally, well into the afternoon, Keith stood and said his goodbyes. He pressed his cheek to the trunk. “I miss you.” He murmured.

 

Night crept up on Keith, having spent most of his morning at the tree. The terrain had turned to boulders again, and he knew climbing through the dark was no easy feat.

 

Still, no suitable trees for his hammock presented himself. Aching, and with knees bruised from missing footholds, Keith gave in and made his way to the next shelter marker. Quiet chatter and the clattering of cook-pots trickled from the fire, but he had no appetite. He made for the rickety shelter, already crowded with sleeping bags, and squeezed himself against a wall. He propped his pack up at his feet and welcomed sleep. The cold of the cabin floor crept through his sleeping bag but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too tired and sore to register it.

 

He opened his eyes to pitch dark as his shoulder was jostled. “Red.” A voice whispered urgently, and Keith thought for a moment of Lance.   
          “Nghn…” he managed, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “What do you wan’?”

          “It’s Blue, it’s Lance. We can’t find him.” Keith propped himself up on his elbows, waking slowly.  
          “What?”

“He started going further after - since the last time we saw you.” Pidge managed, and Keith could make out her glasses now.

          “That’s not my f-“  Hunk’s looming figure came into focus and Keith exhaled sharply. “Don’t you just meet up at night?”

          “It is night.” Hunk’s voice was wobbly. “It’s been two nights since we’ve seen him. He has the tents, and I mean, we can do without them, it’s mostly Lance we’re worried about, but I’m a big guy and these shelters are so- “  
“What Hunk is trying to say, is that it’s imperative that we find him!”

Keith sat up, arching his back. “Fuck. Right. Okay, let’s go.”  
“You’ll help?” Hunk beamed.

          “Of course.”

 

Minutes later, Keith had donned his headlamp and cosiest gear. Pidge and Hunk huddled around the blinking device Keith had seen that first time. “It says he’s within two miles but I can’t get a read on where.” She sounded exhausted. Under the harsh light of their headlamps, Hunk and Pidge looked worn-out. Their eyes were dark and their faces dirty. He could see how Lance’s distance had affected him, and that same crawling guilt nudged him.   
“We’ll find him.” He put as much confidence as he could into the words.

          “Yeah.” Hunk nodded. “We will.”

Pidge just stared at the machine.

“I’ll start further up the ridge, you two take the lower ground.” Earlier in his trip, he would never have taken the tougher terrain. Now, as he travelled the rough path, he felt at ease.

 

A couple of minutes passed, and Keith scoured the path for any sign of the missing hiker. He didn’t know what to look, and as he went, he felt more and more hopeless. “Lance?” He called softly. Even his quiet call rung out in the quiet night. “Lance, please, where are you?” Keith felt stupid. There was no way Lance was hiding from his friends, and he was sure he was the last person he wanted to see. Why had he been invited to look anyway? He was the whole reason they were in this mess.

He kicked stones on the path, watching them clatter over the side and down the ravine. “Lance, if you’re out there, I’d really like to be in bed right now.” He tried to keep the frustration from his voice.

“How forward of you.” The reply was rough, and Keith couldn’t quite place where it came from.

“Lance?” He called again, peering around the bend in the path.  
“Also I’d appreciate if you’d stop showering me with pebbles.”  
Keith dropped to his knees and crawled to the edge of the ravine. It wasn’t far down, but much to steep to get out of unassisted. There, at the bottom, was Lance. His blue bandana stood out against the rocky bottom.

          “Oh. You’re here.”  
          “I am.” His voice teetered on the edge of sarcastic and sincere.

          “Shall I, uh, get you out?”  
          “Please.”

 

Keith wasted no time and pulled the rope from his hammock out. It was thick enough that he imagined it would support the other man. He held one end and lowered the other down. Lance caught it, and tugged a little, catching Keith off guard. He stumbled forward a little but caught himself. “Alright, hold on!”  
“I’ve been down here for a whole day, and I’m getting tired of counting earthworms, Red! Let’s get this over with.

          “Keith.”  
          “What?”  
          “My name’s Keith, actually.”  
          “Ah.” Lance pulled on the rope again, and this time Keith was ready. His well-muscled arms held it tight and Lance braced himself against the slope. “You got it?”  
          “I’ve got you.” Lance hoisted himself up, feet flat against the rough earth. Keith strained, the rope tearing up his palms from how hard he held it. “I-“ He took a shallow breath. “I’m really sorry.”  
          “Why? Did you push me down here?” Keith smiled in spite of himself and his grip loosened, sending Lance down the slope a little. “Hey!”  
          “Ah, sorry.” He adjusted his hold. “I just meant, I wasn’t kind to you.”

          “You were pretty awful actually.” There was no humour in it now.  
          “Yeah, I was.”

“Like I get it if you weren’t… well, y’know, but the way you said it.” His words were clipped, whether, with effort or emotion, Keith couldn’t tell. He felt sick to his stomach but kept his hands tight around the rope. He had said those words to hurt, he’d hurled them from the ugliest place inside him. The parts that ate away at him from the bottom up.

 

Lance was closer now, an arms-length down, and Keith released one hand to grab for Lance. Their fingers brushed then clasped, and all of Lance’s weight was on Keith. “Come on, climb.” He grunted, pulling up what he could. Lance’s feet scrambled against the rock and for a second Keith thought he was going to pull both of them down. With a final push, he hauled himself over the ridge, and onto the rough path. They both took shuddering breaths, hands still clasped at their sides where they lay.

Lance squeezed his hand, as he had the last time they’d touched, and Keith recoiled, pulling his hand to his chest.

“Keith.” Lance protested quietly.

Keith rolled onto his side, steadying his breath. “Lance.” He liked how his name sounded on his lips.

“Keith.” He said again, dirty fingers brushing against his shoulder and back. “Look at me, Keith.”

 

Keith did as he was told, taking the hand in his own again. “I’m sorry.” Lance looked at him with dark eyes, the sharp shadows of the mountain cutting across his cheeks. “I didn’t mean any of it.” He murmured against their fingers.

          “Any of it?” Lance asked quietly.

Keith nodded and let their joined hands fall between them. He craned his neck to the sky, where a spoonful of stars peered out between the crags and rocks. Their breath ghosted out above them, and Keith felt exhaustion creep over him.

Lance blinked blearily and pulled his hand away slowly. “Pidge and Hunk, are they looking?”

          “Oh.” Keith propped himself up. “Yes.”  
          “Can you call them?”

          Keith shook his head. “No phone.”  
          “No phone?” Lance shot up. “You came on a two-month thru-hike with no phone. What the hell. You afraid of the FBI or whatever? Trying to stay off the grid?” He laughed.

          Keith looked away sheepishly. “I just prefer to... be private.”

          “No fucking way. You’re not even joking.”  
          “It’s a personal preference!”  
          “It’s a personal preference that’s screwing us over.” Lance snorted.

          “Can’t you call them?”  
          “Left my phone with Pidge.”

          “What’s the point of keeping a phone with you if you don’t even use it!” Keith cried, exasperated.

          “It’s for emergencies!”  
          “Like this one?”  
          “Well.” Lance pursed his lips. “You have a point there, I suppose. Guess we’ll just have to echolocate.”  
          “Echo-what?”  
          “PIDGE!” Lance screeched, voice shrill and high. Keith slammed his hands over his ears.

          “What the fuck!”   
          “Wait for it…”

 

          “LANCE!” The reply was just as irritating and Keith glared at Lance.

          “Why didn’t you do that in the ravine? You could have saved us so much time.”  
          “I didn’t want Pidge to rescue me, I wanted you.” Lance had the decency to go a little pink.

          “I literally told you to stay away from me and you thought I would save you?”  
          “Well, you did, didn’t you? Besides I had a back-up.” Keith frowned. “PIDGE!”

          “Jesus Christ, some warning please.”  
          “Right. Anyway, I did stay away. You just happened to come to me.”  
          “So you used your friends to win me over?”  
          “I won you over?”  
          “No.”  
          “LANCE!” Pidge’s voice sounded nearer now, and Keith got to his feet. He began wrapping the rope around his arm.

          “Not even a little?” Lance stood, shoulder brushing his.   
Keith didn’t bother to respond, and Pidge’s headlamp bobbed into view.

 

          “Oh, Keith thank god.” Pidge sighed and dimmed her headlamp. Hunk ambled up behind and crushed Keith in a hug.

          “Thank you.” He said.

          “Lance,” Pidge began, and Lance took a step behind Keith and Hunk, holding them in front of him. “Lance, we are going to have words.” Pidge hissed, “Whether you like it or not.”  
          “Oh, come on. I just got out of a literal hellhole can we please skip it this time.”  
          “We agreed, that if you were going to go on ahead you wouldn’t g-“

          Hunk took Keith by the arm and turned back to the path. “Best to just leave them to it.”  
          “Ah, yeah.” Keith nodded and allowed Hunk to steer him back to the campsite.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> let me know what you think in the comments or at my tumblr ([main](http://puddlies.tumblr.com/) or [vld](https://blackpaladinn.tumblr.com/) ) !! :>
> 
>  
> 
> if you have any questions about the lingo or hiking etiquette/rules/customs, feel free to ask!
> 
> -mon


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